Girls and Boys

I have to go back to school in a New York minute (thankfully, though, not before I actually go to New York next week) and if I think about it for too long I start to have some kind of panic attack and I hover on the verge of an all out toddler temper tantrum.

I love summer.

I never, ever, want it to leave me.

As I laid in bed thinking about my dwindling break, I decided we were definitely making today a pool day and we were definitely inviting friends.We ended up there with my friend, the boys' best buddies and another one of Garrett's friends from school. And so, it was a gang of two twelve year olds, an eleven year old, a ten year old, a nine year old, and a partridge in a pear tree who masquerades as a two year old.

They played and swam and soaked up the sun and one of them pooped a big disaster into a swimmy diaper. After that mess, in which I tried to wash him off in a shower that actually felt like needles were piercing skin and he cried and cried and screamed, "Mommy, no more!" and I finally had to make it work with a few baby wipes, I dried him off and declared it a day.

I'd been told that my nine year old was doing flips off the tall springboard and I needed to see this for myself. I walked over to the diving pool with my toddler in my arms and my friend at my side. As we walked past the springboard, I saw one of the girls from Garrett's grade. She is one of the kindest and most beautiful girls. She's also a giant and my son is a shrimp. As a teacher, I adore her. I pointed her out to Garrett. "Oh!" he said, "Yeah." And then my barely twelve year old marched right over to her and said hello.

I was so proud of his friendliness.

"Oh! Hi Garrett!" she said and she walked toward him with an arm extended in what could only be interpreted as the beginning of a side hug. Just as she began to say, "Let me give you a hu---" he turned on his heels and walked back to his friends.

Oh. Man. Rejected.

She mumbled, "Nevermind..." and then vacated that particular pool immediately. Garrett walked back and I explained that he likely, without meaning to, had really embarrassed her. I knew he wasn't trying to be a jerk. I don't think he even knew she was going to hug him. But she clearly felt burned. It was so obvious to this former sixth grader.

I told him to find her and make small talk. "You don't have to hug her, but at least make sure she knows you're friends. Smooth it over, in case she thinks you were trying to be mean."

He and his friends found her and hers. They stood together for a few minutes. I don't know what was said, but it was a glimpse into my future. This future of cute girls and my son. And his buddies. Eventually he told her he was going to New York next week. He said, "I'm going to a Broadway show." Apparently she responded jokingly with, "What? I hate you!" and then she jumped in the pool.

As we got our stuff packed up, his best friend sat across from him while they both ate a few cookies. "She keeps looking at you."

"She does?" he asked.

"Yeah," his other friend said. "She's staring over here."

"Maybe she likes shorter men," I said. They all broke into laughter. On the way out, I heard the boys teasing each other about girls and I looked at my friend. "They were three. Do you remember that? They were JUST THREE."

My son has been 12 for a week. When I was 12 years and 9 days old, a boy asked me to "go out" with him. For a solid year we never actually went anywhere. We just ate lunch together and, on rare occasion, held sweaty hands. I told Garrett today that I was 12 when I first had a boyfriend. His eyes got huge. "Don't worry," I said. "I didn't kiss him or anything like that. We just held hands."

He wrinkled his nose. "Gross."

Phew.